


and i heard one of the four creatures, saying as with a voice of thunder, "come."

by tesselations



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Crack, Biblical References, F/F, F/M, Gen, Horsemen, Mash-up, Other, band of misfits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:09:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tesselations/pseuds/tesselations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is ending and no one in Thedas saw it coming, not even when the Horsemen started riding. Alternate Universe Dragon Age II mash-up with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i heard one of the four creatures, saying as with a voice of thunder, "come."

1.

_The end of the world is coming._

People have been saying it for years, of course, but something has changed now. Something in the air tastes like smoke and bone dust and the clouds crackle with electricity. Across Thedas, things are shifting.

-

The Blight comes from Fereldan. She rides a white horse and carries a sword, not a bow, and raises no suspicions, because even she doesn’t know who she is. She remembers a life that isn’t hers, and uses a name that isn’t Pestilence or Conquest. She leaves towns in quarantine and doesn’t know why she’s always being followed by this illness, this Pollution. 

She has to kill the horse because of a gangrenous leg. She doesn’t have to kill her husband, but—

But when she kisses him good luck, she can feel the taint in his bones.

-

He likes good food and good sex, but War loves a good fight. 

He was a scrappy child who was forever coming home with bruised knuckles. He knows just how to wind people up, harass them, needle them, until suddenly they are the ones throwing the first punch or making the first shot. But War doesn’t lose fights until he wants to. Even as a kid, he lets them take him to the circle, singes them more than burns them. They say he’s got magic, magic they can control.

War knows better than that. 

Wherever he goes he starts a fight. It’s not hard with Templars. It’s harder with Tranquil mages, but War manages. The last time he runs away it’s for good, so he steals someone’s reddish mare and makes quite a scene with his flaming staff and his robes flaring out behind him. In his wake, the Circle seethes, ready to tear itself apart. 

-

Famine knew who he was once. But there’s lyrium in the skin and bones of this physical form, and while he’s more than some Fade spirit, there are certain parts of him he can’t feel anymore. That doesn’t mean others can’t.

Danarius likes to starve him, but Famine doesn’t mind. It keeps him sharp and lean and wild. At night, Famine turns his milk to wine and watches Danarius bloat, fat and purple and malnourished, drunk and gibbering.

Danarius likes to starve his slaves as a punishment, but Famine makes him hungry, and his smile when his master moans is like a knife. It’s a quiet thing, but it drives Danarius mad, mad enough to stay home from battles with the Qunari, mad enough to gnaw the skin off his own bones. 

When he leaves his old master, Famine makes sure there are no loose ends. He rides to Kirkwall on a black stallion, and in his footsteps Tevinter starves. 

-

When she was born, they told Leandra that she had born a strange sort of child. She never kicked. Leandra would hold her hand on her stomach for hours waiting for a kick or a punch, but her child was still and quiet in her womb. Leandra went into labor two weeks late, and the midwife was scared the baby would be still-born. It was a long and painful labor.

When little Hawke finally surfaced, she let out a piercing shriek and a gasp that sounded more like a death rattle, and scared the midwife half to death.

“Call her Marian,” Leandra panted.

When Marian opened her eyes, they weren’t the baby blue Leandra expected. Her eyes were black and deep, so dark one couldn’t tell the iris from the pupil, and her lashes were thick and soft as coal dust. One look in her eyes and the midwife passed out.

She didn’t die till two weeks later. The other horsemen may not have remembered who they were, but Marian knew her real name the day she was born. 

-  
-

2.

Marian grows up in the idyllic Ferelden countryside, a strange and quiet girl with a voice like velvet. Her father is a mage and the more devout of her neighbors whisper about how she must be a witch, the way she holds darkness in her hands. People are always afraid of the things they do not know.

Things seem… normal, for a while. Marian contents herself with waiting. She watches the crops grow and watches them fail. She practices with small things—squirrels, and then a lamb. Her parents don’t know what she is, and they’re a little scared, a little thrilled by her. She never takes their hands or crawls in their bed, even as a child. It means something different when you’re death incarnate. 

When Bethany and Carver are born, Leandra is surprised by how normal they seem. They are fat and healthy, pink-cheeked and blue-eyed with loud wails of life. Leandra cradles them to her chest, watches Marian, who hovers in the corner, cautiously. 

Marian leaves. When Leandra finally parts with them, and stops sleeping in the same room with them, they get their own crib, and sometimes they scream. One night, Marian sneaks in when they are wailing, to hover over the crib they share, and stares at them unblinkingly, her hands in an iron grip around the crib bars. They finally quiet down, and stop wriggling in their hand-knit blankets, watching her with twin gazes of baby blue, still and silent.

It is Marian’s father who catches her. He slaps her across the face, afraid of what she is, and she stumbles. The twins start crying again, and Marian looks at what was her father and he goes cold.

He hangs on for a few more years, but it’s not really living. Death takes only when it is time, and Marian has learned to wait. 

So she does. Bethany and Carver grow, happy and healthy, and Leandra loves them as achingly as any mother. Marian plays the role of older sister, of black sheep, waiting for years as she thinks of her people, somewhere across Thedas, waiting for her too. 

When the Blight comes, she can taste it weeks before it actually arrives in her small town, and her anxious pacing is enough to make everyone wary. Carver and Bethany start packing, but they are not afraid—it’s hard to be scared of death when you’re raised with it. When Marian carries the dead out of their homes herself. 

They leave the town only when it’s empty. Leandra is horribly afraid, Carver and Bethany are still flush with life, and Marian is ready to stop waiting.

-

They meet Aveline on their way to the Wilds, to Kirkwall. Marian doesn’t recognize her at first, cradling an injured man close to her chest. He is a Templar, and he snarls at Bethany when she approaches. Marian snarls back at him. There is no comparison.

“I am Aveline Vallen,” the woman says, and she is not scared to look Marian in the eye. “This is my husband Ser Wesley. We can hate each other when this is done.”

Somehow, Marian doesn’t think this will be the case.

She notices that Aveline doesn’t fight the darkspawn, not exactly. She protects Ser Wesley from them, and lashes out at them when they get too near, but they’re never attacking her and she never needs to kill them. 

Marian doesn’t need to fight them anyway; they give her a wide berth. She doesn’t like using the sword on her back, it doesn’t swing quite right, and honestly, her hands and her heart do the same work as a sword does. Marian Hawke has never had trouble killing things. 

She knows what is going to happen before it does, before her mother screams. Carver is a crumpled heap behind the ogre, and Marian does not hesitate now. She moves like she’s dancing—the ogre steps back, afraid, and she steps forward, and puts a hand on its chest. It wasn’t even long enough to be a fight. 

Leandra rushes forward to cradle Carver’s head in her lap, mumbling and sobbing about how young he was, her son, Marian’s brother.

“He knew,” Marian finally said, and she pulled Carver’s body away from Leandra. This was her job. She sent him home with a kiss on his forehead, and she closed both his eyes. “He was living on borrowed time.”

Leandra remembered her husband, and the way Marian looked at her children.

“This is your fault.” 

Marian didn’t deny it.

Wesley was an easier life to take. He was half-gone with the Blight, and when she took Aveline’s hand after, Plague looked Marian in the eye and remembered. 

It was good to not travel alone.

-

Marian gets them new weapons when they get to Kirkwall. She hands Aveline a bow that she has never fought with, ivory-white and clean as bones, and a quiver full of poisoned arrows.

“I thought they would suit you better than that clumsy sword and shield,” Marian tells her, her voice soft as wings. “Don’t fight who you are.” Aveline clutches the bow too-tight, but she keeps it.

They meet Varric. Marian likes him, as much as she can like anyone, and she thinks that he will live as long as this world lasts, so he can tell Their story. Someone needs to be there when Their charge begins. Besides, Marian is not very good at the here and the now, and someone needs to keep an ear to the ground for rumors. War may be easy to find, but Famine’s a sneaky one, she’s sure. 

She meets Isabella in a bar fight, and wonders to herself how it is she missed this one again. Marian’s coming into her own now, she’s not practicing on dogs and sheep any longer, and she’s gotten better at knowing when it’s time to take someone. And Isabella’s time is long past. It’s… interesting. 

Isabella survives the fight in the Chantry, and Marian takes her up on her offer to get to know her a little better. Buried between her thighs, she thinks she understands how some people manage to cheat death.

 

Isabella’s not a Rider. She’s not even a Deadly Sin, though the swing of her hips says otherwise. But she’s never been afraid of dangerous things, and she keeps strange company. 

Aveline is uncomfortable enough with who she is to cringe when Isabella brings up STDs. It takes her a while to relax long enough to snap back anything but “whore,” and it takes even longer for her to crack a joke about Isabella practically doing her job for her.

“You’re welcome,” Isabella says, and when Marian grins, Aveline shudders.

 

So Isabella keeps strange company. One time, Marian brings up War, idly. 

“There’s fighting everywhere. I can’t figure out where he is, and what’s from men and what’s from him. You think he’d be easier to find. You think someone would remember him,” Marian complains. Isabella shrugs underneath her arm, trying to think about a man like War, before she is struck by a memory.

“I met a man once,” she starts, and Marian squeezes the arm around her tighter. Isabella rolls her eyes. “He fucked like he was fighting. I had bruises all over, the good kind. That’s the kind of man War would be.”

“Was there a point to telling me this?”

“He was a mage, did something fantastic with electricity. You should pick up tips,” she suggests. Marian growls.

“I’m guessing you liked him.”

“Babe, don’t you worry. I’m not settling down till the day I die.” It sounds like a promise. Marian doesn’t kiss her, not yet. 

-

Varric storms into the Hanged Man with a gleam in his eye.

“I’ve heard rumors,” he starts with a grin, “Of a Grey Warden in Darktown. A run-away from the Fereldan circle. A man who heals the poor for free.”

“So?” Marian is unimpressed. Varric leans in.

“He’s got the apostates revolting. He’s got the Circle restless. People are talking about violent uprisings and blood magic.”

Now that Varric brings it up, it does feel like there’s a little war in the air. 

-

Marian doesn’t bring Isabella to meet War. Isabella knows why, Death is a jealous mistress and though she desires many, she will not share. But Isabella would like to see if the man she remembers is the one they will find. 

She knows it is when she sees him in the Hanged Man. Aveline enters first, then he does, and there’s a beat where Isabella is sure someone’s missing, and then Hawke glides in, restless and silent and pale as a ghost. 

She raises a mug to indicate where she is, though she knows Hawke knows. Aveline sits at the far corner, and War sits across from her, a smirk on his lips and a fire in his eyes. Marian sits next to Isabella and watches.

“My name’s Isabella,” she says, leaning forward. He takes an appreciative view of her breasts.

“Anders,” he says, no spark of recognition in his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“Ever been to the Pearl?”

 

She knew it was him. You don’t forget a man who fucks like that. She had bites all down her throat when he was done with her, he had flipped her over and she nearly hit her head, her skin burned when he touched her. She had met him in a bar fight. He didn’t swing first, but later Isabella had sidled up to him and whispered, 

”I know it was your fault.” And Anders had laughed and squeezed her hip so hard it left bruises. 

“It always is, sweetheart.”

 

He may have forgotten her, but no one forgets him. 

Anders already has a flaming staff, and he firmly refuses to wield a sword. Marian doesn’t push too hard about it. It takes a little creative maneuvering to remind him who he is, but Marian doesn’t mind being his awakening, and Isabella’s just been waiting for a rerun. 

He still fucks like he fights. And he still won’t wield a sword.

“The Battle will be more fun this way, I promise,” he says, and spins the staff around in his hands.

-

They meet the Witch of the Wilds. 

“Is it Fate, or Destiny?” She asks. Marian shakes her head.

“It’s prophecy.”

They don’t have to take Merrill with them, but they do. Isabella likes her, and Marian is intrigued by her. For all her bubbliness, Merrill has one foot in the door of Death. She’s not quite all the way there, and not all the way here. And she’s fascinated with all of them, especially Marian. 

It would be flattering, except Marian is sure Merrill isn’t suicidal. Just crazy. It gives her a buzz, and a bit of a headache. 

-

In the end, Famine is the one who finds them. Marian was right about one thing, he’s a sneaky one. But there were signs. The crops in the area are failing. The vegetables rotted in the fields. The baker kept finding half eaten loaves of bread still in the oven. 

He’s as thin as a knife blade, dressed all in black. Isabella gets hungry just looking at him. 

“Finally,” Isabella says loudly. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“You’ve been looking for me?” He asks, confused and angry. “Are you from Tevinter? Who told you?” 

If Marian panicked, now would be a good time, when realizing how little Famine remembers. But she was ready for this. She’s been waiting for Famine a long time. 

“Who are you?” She asks quietly.

“Fenris.”

“No you’re not.” And she hands him a tiny set of black scales. He still doesn’t recognize them, and Marian allows herself to be human, to be frustrated. She grabs his wrist and his tattoos glow, and she can tell he knows himself now.

“Welcome home,” she tells him. 

-  
-  
3.

Varric accompanies them down to the Deep Roads. There, in an abandoned throne room, next to a lyrium idol and piles of treasure, Marian finds a long, sickly curved scythe leaned up against the wall. She takes it in her hands and tests the weight of it, swings it in an arc around her. Behind the Throne Room doors, Bartrand crumples.

The scythe is the same color as bone. Things are changing. 

 

Aveline apologizes when Bethany gets the taint. Bethany just shrugs. 

“I was living on borrowed time,” she said, and she greets Death like an old friend, like a sister.

 

Marian rides out of the Deep Roads on a pale and ghostly horse.

-

Things escalate quickly after that. They’ve got a fourth of the total population to decimate, after all. 

It takes no time at all for people to start warring in the streets of Kirkwall. Mages and Templars and Qunari and all of them hate each other. There’s a lot of bad blood in the streets now, and Anders has it all on his hands. 

“A riot? Just for her? You’re such a romantic,” Isabella purrs.

Anders laughs. Marian reaps. 

-

Fenris works more slowly. Crops fail. The price of food goes up, the price of wine goes down. Half the city starves and drinks itself to death. 

Merrill visits Fenris in his mansion once. There’s not anything to eat, not that she expects there to be. It seems Fenris lives off of Danarius’ old wine cellar. 

When Merrill asks him about it, Fenris shrugs.

“I would be if I were really living,” he says.

“Aren’t you?” 

“About as much as you are.”

-

Aveline is Captain of the Guard now. She wears the white bow and quiver strapped to her back by day, and when she patrols the empty streets at night, darkspawn crawl behind her.

Illness spreads. Anders is past stirring the discontent of Darktowners now. He doesn’t help Aveline, but he doesn’t heal them either.

When Aveline kisses Donnic on the mouth, she can taste the taint. This time, she smiles. 

-

In the end, none of them touch Hawke’s mother. Leandra is taken by a madman, who uses magic to rip her apart and keep her alive. Marian can feel it in her bones, and it makes her furious.

“She is not his to take!” she snarls, and her voice echoes like something deep and ancient.

War, Famine, and Plague follow her to the madman’s lair. She takes his life with a snap of her fingers, cradles Leandra’s mutilated head in her lap.

“Marian, please,” she begs. For once, she doesn’t hate this thing that was supposed to be her daughter. 

Marian closes Leandra’s eyes for her. Behind her, the Riders are quiet, stunned for a moment by the horrors that men create for themselves. Some viciousness is purely mortal.

-  
-  
4.

The Qunari fight. In the wake of their war, Kirkwall starves, while Meredith goes mad with Taint and plague.

Death does not take this life with her bone scythe. She merely holds out a hand to Meredith and whispers, in her funeral dirge voice, _"Come."_ When it is done, they Ride out of Kirkwall in a cloud of dust.

Varric, Isabella, and Merrill do not cry. They do not say goodbye. They’ll meet them again soon enough. 

\- 

_For the great day of their wrath has come, and who is able to stand?_

fin. 


End file.
